


a single confused thing

by singlemalter



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 08:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlemalter/pseuds/singlemalter
Summary: Needing reassurance is okay.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	a single confused thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [015255](https://archiveofourown.org/users/015255/gifts).

No matter how many encouraging articles he reads on Cosmo or whichever shitty magazine is tackling _alternative male sexuality_ this month, his heart still skips several beats every time Carlos sees him and _smiles_, like there’s nothing odd about your boyfriend wearing clothes from the women’s section, his lips painted matte pink. Lando’s impossibly lucky; he’s so grateful for Carlos’ nonchalance, not sweeping _this_ under the carpet, but accepting it as a part of him.

“Hello there,” says Carlos, inviting himself into the hotel room. “You look beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Lando says, though there’s no real bite to it. He leans closer to the mirror to put on his earrings, two small bands hanging from delicate golden hooks. “I look weird. I don’t think this dress suits me.”

Another reason Lando is the happiest man on Earth: Carlos wastes no time in walking across the room and wrapping his arms around Lando’s waist, his broad chest firm against the thin georgette of the dress. “You are stunning,” he says, nuzzling Lando’s curls. “I promise you, you are the most gorgeous boyfriend in the entire world. And that is not easy, you see. I am so handsome that I can only date other very good looking people. I would not date you if you were not beautiful.”

Lando shakes his head, looking at the ceiling to contain his tears—his mascara might be waterproof, but it’s still embarrassing to sob his eyes out in front of stern, calm Carlos. “I miss when you bullied me all the time. At least I didn’t cry so much.”

Gently, Carlos squeezes his sides in soft reassurance. Lando melts into the touch, and it can’t be normal, craving to be loved and understood as much as he does; but Carlos keeps giving it to him, always. 

“Sorry,” Lando mumbles, cheeks red from more than just the powder blush. “I need to grow up.”

“You told me once you didn’t want to,” Carlos says, leaning over Lando to pick up the gold necklace on the vanity desk. He gently brushes Lando’s hair away, then wraps the cord around Lando’s neck, clasping the two ends together with a flourish, as if he’s genuinely proud of himself for it. “So there is no need to grow up if you don’t feel like it. You need to remember that it is fine if you cry in front of me, because I am your boyfriend, and I love you.”

Lando tries to say it back but the words won’t come out. Around Carlos, he’s reduced to a stupor in which thinking, feeling and wanting are a single thing—he thinks of Carlos, he feels Carlos’ hands on him, and he wants _more_, until he doesn’t know where he ends and Carlos begins. He has no idea how to put that kind of intensity into words.

Instead, Lando turns around and kisses him, those long, painted nails running down Carlos’ torso, returning the sugary-sweet praise he just can’t get enough of.

**Author's Note:**

> Incidentally, this is my 50th fic. And initially I had this huge thing planned, but you know what, that’s just not Malter brand. I don’t _do_ big, God, imagine that. Therefore, this is what y’all get: something written purely for my own reading pleasure. Thank you if you’ve stuck around for that long; my first fic was uploaded anonymously on my damn birthday, and I didn’t think I’d still be around over eight months later. Thank you if it’s your first time reading my fic, too.
> 
> “It is certainly abnormal to crave so much to be loved and understood.” _The Diary of Anaïs Nin_, volume 1. 
> 
> “Thinking, feeling and wanting become a single confused thing. Beliefs, sensations, imagined things and real things get all mixed up, like the contents of various drawers overturned on to the floor.” Richard Zenith’s English translation of Pessoa’s _The Book of Disquiet_, text 376.
> 
> I’m still singlemalter on Tumblr!


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